


Things we lost in the fire

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: The Death of Draco Malfoy [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt, M/M, New York, POV Second Person, Separation, Things we lost in the Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:30:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as Draco doesn't want to return home, he has to. What he doesn't count on is who takes his place in his absence. A year can seem like forever when you're miles apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things we lost in the fire

**Author's Note:**

> For Theodore, you know who you are.

You’ve been thinking about this moment for weeks, trying your best to ignore what you already know in the back of your mind. You would give anything to simply turn away from everything that you’ve always known would eventually come to pass, and a part of you simply wants to push it away and forget it; but you can’t.

 

It’s as much a part of who you are as the man beside you.

 

“You don’t have to do this.” He says and the way his voice cracks with the words he speaks breaks your heart.

 

“You know that I do.” You murmur against the side of his head and then you shut your eyes and breathe him in.

 

The thought of leaving him now, after everything you’ve experienced and the years that have slipped past between you is pure torture, and you’ve never wished to be someone else as much as you do at that moment.

 

“I know that you do.” He whispers a bit sadly, and the way that his fingers tighten around you makes you smile because you know that he’s desperately trying to cling to this moment as much as you are.

 

“It is only temporary, I promise you that.” You pull back from him just enough to look him in the eyes because you want him to see the truth in your expression because you know that your words could never be enough alone.

 

“Just…come back to me.” He says and when his cerulean gaze looks straight inside your soul, you hope he finds the answers he is looking for.

 

~@~

 

It’s four days later and you are standing in the middle of your bedroom holding a small box. Daphne has once again assisted you with obtaining a portkey and as you stare down at the gold plated whistle contained inside, your hands shake and your chest hitches painfully.

 

It is one thing to form a solid plan inside your head, but quite another to actually go through with it.

 

Theodore is perched on the edge of the bed and he’s watching you from beneath dark hair that hangs in his eyes. When you look up at him your brows knit together and you don’t think that you can leave him; even temporarily.

  
What if this is the wrong choice?

 

You watch as he unfolds himself and stands and your breath catches in your throat as he crosses the room towards you and stops just before you. His eyes are glassy and it kills you because you know that it is your doing—You made a promise to yourself a long time ago to never be the cause of his pain again.

  
And yet, here you are.

 

You reach for him, fingertips pausing briefly just out of reach before they trace over his face. You know that you don’t need to commit him to your memory; he’s long since been fused into your very make-up. You know this separation is only temporary, but you are not certain that he believes that truth like you do. 

 

“When you start to doubt, remember that I am only a call away.” You smile for him despite the seriousness of your words, because you know that it is what he needs. You know him well enough to know that there will come a time that he will question you and your promise and you can’t bear the thought of losing him again; even to himself.

 

“I wont.” He says and when he kisses you, it’s tainted with a sadness and finality that you don’t want to think about.

 

He takes a step back from you and wraps his arms around himself and your eyes sting as you reach a shaking hand towards the box in your other hand. Your eyes never leave his as you are pulled away; ripped out of the life you had built with him and dumped back into the life that you left behind. When you land outside the gates of Malfoy manor, your knees give out and you find yourself on the ground. Your palms splay out in the dirt and you dry heave; not because of the shock of international travel so much as your guilt rising up in your throat like bile.

 

What have you done?

 

It takes you a long time to pull yourself together and cross back into your former life, and as you stride up the cobbled path towards the looming house in the distance, you cannot escape the overwhelming sense of dread that fills up every ounce of space within you like rolling storm clouds.

 

You haven’t been home since your father’s funeral and when you open the door and step inside, you shiver beneath the clothes you wear because the coldness of the place is like a forgotten nightmare.

 

There is no one to welcome you because you didn’t tell anyone you were coming. You don’t think you could have handled a big teary reunion and you quickly take the main staircase and head for your rooms before anyone realizes you are here.  You aren’t sure what you’re hiding from; the only occupants in the manor are your mother and possibly your wife. But you need to be alone here before you can be expected to explain why you have returned, and so you go.

 

You sit in a chair by the window in your room for a long time; hours pass you think, although you honestly have no idea at all. You are thankful that there are no more elves within these walls; your quiet reappearance would have been impossible if there had been. Your mind is still back in New York and you can’t help but wonder what Theodore was up to. It had only been a handful of hours since you left, but it already felt like a lifetime. You imagine he’s curled up in that oversized armchair with his journal, scribbling away like a mad man and you smile, because you have seen this vision with your own eyes too many times to count. When you reach inside your jacket for one of Theodore’s cigarette’s you don’t even think twice about lighting it because you think that you wouldn’t really mind if the scent of cigarette smoke lingered in the drapes and wallpaper. Every time you fill your lungs with tar and nicotine your eyes flutter shut because it tastes like him and you don’t know how you are supposed to live without his constant presence.

 

Traveling the globe with Theodore Nott has been the adventure of your life and there was a time when you were certain you would never return here again. It is easy to lose yourself in the excitement of love and youth and pretend that you don’t have a care in the world when there is a beautiful boy whom you love desperately at your side. From the bluest waters of Morocco to the concrete jungle of New York, you’d seen it all with his hand in yours and now, more than anything, you wished for that hand to hold.

 

You had been surprised at how well he took your decision to return to London. You had fretted over telling him for weeks and when you finally did, he was not nearly as destroyed at you thought he might be. Of course there were tears and sadness, but at the heart of it all, he understood. You had a duty to your family, one that you cannot escape because you are the only one who _can._ The thought of being a father terrified you; still does in fact. But you put all of the insecurities and uncertainties aside because you have to.

 

You have had your freedom, now it’s time to grow up. This is what you tell yourself when you lie down to sleep at night; you are still waiting for the morning you wake up a believer.

 

When you find your mother in the library she is smiling because she already knew you were home. It’s been so long that you’ve forgotten how attuned she is to this house; of course she knew the moment you arrived.

 

“Is it time?” She asks, raising a delicate blonde brow in your direction.  You are hardly surprised that she also knows why you are home and you can’t help but wonder if all women were this way or if perhaps you were just not as adept at masking your emotions at you thought you were.

 

“Yes.” You reply as you pour yourself a cup of tea because there really isn’t much point in mincing words.

 

“Are you certain?” She asks carefully and the way her pale blue eyes seem to look right through you makes you think she already knows the answer.

 

“Where is she?” You ask instead because you don’t want to lie to your own mother.

 

“Littlehampton. Returning tomorrow, I’m sure.” Her tone is noncommittal but you do not miss the slightest roll of her eyes, which makes you smirk inwardly.

 

“Good. It will give us time to work out the details before she gets back.” Your gaze moves to the fireplace as you speak and you purposely keep any and all emotion from your voice. Treat it like a business deal—It sounds good in theory, anyway.

 

“Details?” She asks as she lifts her teacup to sip silently from it, mildly curious as to what you were cooking up inside that head of yours.

 

“Yes. I have…stipulations.” You reply airily and then you really do smirk because you can’t help yourself.

 

~@~

 

“You’re fucking joking.” She says in between her laughter that you hardly find funny.  She looks so much older than when you left her, even though her features are for the most part, unchanged. You can see it hanging on her, like a thick shroud, and you feel guilty for condemning her to this life.

 

“I’m not at all, actually.” You reply evenly as you sit across the table from her, wondering how in the hell this woman was ever going to make a suitable mother.

 

“So, let me get this straight, _darling._ You pop in after _years_ , and expect me to carry your child? Oh, but let’s not forget the best part! We get the assistance of healers and potions because my fucking husband can’t _bear_ to put his hands on me.” She was still laughing while she spoke, even though she could no longer hide the shreds of anger and frustration that were beginning to show through in her splotchy cheeks and red-circled eyes.

 

You wanted to tell her that it was not as awful as she was making it sound, but how could you? She was right. You _had_ returned home with intentions to produce the next family heir and you expected her to carry him. The grim reality of the situation was this. It was her _only_ job as your wife, and although you could understand her anger, you hardly thought it unfair.

 

“What did I ever do to you, Draco? What is so wrong with me that you had to run across the world to escape me?” Your eyes snapped back to her as she spoke with her gaze averted to her hands twisted in her own lap. The honesty of her questions was like tiny slaps to your face and it was right here that you realized that for all of her sarcasm and nonchalance, she really did care about you.

 

“This was never about you.” You reply quietly as you slide your chair back and circle the table, offering her your hand.

 

“How can you say that?” She’s peering up at you from beneath velvety lashes and it only takes a moment before she slides a shaking hand into yours and allows you to help her up out of her seat and into an embrace—The first and only that the two of you will ever share.

 

“You were a casualty of my unwrapping life, and for that I am sorry. If I had the courage after the war that I had by the time I left, this would have never happened. To either of us.” Your fingers card gently through her hair that smells like strawberries and the faintest hint of tequila; which you find vaguely amusing for more than one reason.

 

She’s clinging to you so tightly that you think her nails will leave behind indents in your skin long after she is gone. You cannot help but marvel at how differently this lithe creature fits in your arms than Theodore does. She is delicate and small where he is all limbs and fine muscle. You wonder if, in a different life you could have loved this woman or saved her from her own self-destructive habits. It is a pointless thing to entertain ‘what ifs’ and you know this more than most, but still. You’d like to think that no matter what life, you would always find him and he would always find you.

 

“I will have your child for you, Draco. But then you have to let me go. I thought I could live like this forever, but I was wrong. I need to be free.” Her voice is muffled against the arm of your jacket but the plea is unmistakable and it fills you with sadness; for both of you.

 

“You’re not my prisoner, Astoria.” A faint laugh escapes you and you feel her shake with a laugh of her own and you feel marginally better.  “Of course you can go, whenever you like.” You add and then you kiss her cheek because you feel like the hardest obstacle of this entire thing has just been broken down.

 

You will never know that she had secretly hoped you would ask her to stay, even if she never once believed you would. By the time your son is three years old, she will finally hold good on that request, and leave Malfoy manor for good.

 

~@~

 

“If I don’t get the enjoyment of the conception, you don’t get the pleasure of skipping this process. SIT.” You obediently fall into a chair and sniff haughtily in her direction.

 

You’re glaring at her with narrowed eyes and wondering how in the hell she can manage to still command so much authority while lying on her back with her feet in stirrups. It’s a disturbing image that you would very much like to _not_ have, which you are certain is the sole purpose for her insistence on you staying put.

 

Reproduction without sex.

 

It was a fairly common practice the world over, and although most pureblood families would look down their noses at such an idea, you hardly fucking cared. The war was over and the wizarding world was a much different place than most were used to. This was your means to an end and you intended to use it.

 

 

 

~@~

 

“You probably aren’t going to want to hear this but…” Daphne is staring at you over the top of her teacup and you frown because whenever Daphne says something like that, you know that bad news is only a breath away.

 

“But you’re going to tell me anyways.” You reply with a wry grin and then you lean back in your seat and prepare for the worst.

 

“Pansy left London two weeks ago.” She’s still watching you as she lowers her teacup and the quiet that rises between you is unsettling.

 

“Why would I not want to hear that? It’s the best news I’ve heard all week.” You shrug a shoulder airily and smile and although you don’t say it, you know that things are _never_ that easy.

 

“She’s in New York, Draco. Vaisey set up her portkey personally and if you tell anyone I told you that, I’ll hex you into next week.” She points a warning finger at you but you don’t even see it because you are stuck on the fact that _Pansy_ is in _New York._

 

“Why would she go to New York?” You say, although you already know the answer to your own question.

 

“You know why.” She adds quietly and you can only nod slowly as the vein in your temple pulses painfully beneath your skin.

 

“I need one. As soon as possible.” Your gaze focuses on her and she doesn’t need you to voice the fact that you are desperate.

 

“Of course.” Is her only reply and she leans forward to pick up the tray of pastries and offers you one with a smile.

 

~@~

 

“I’ll be back before the weekend is over, mother.” You’re striding down the corridor towards your chambers with your mother on your heels. She thinks it’s a bit insane that you are leaving for New York, even if it’s only a couple of days. You’d only just gotten confirmation that the pregnancy was successful and you didn’t know if your need to see Theodore was because of Pansy, or because of the inescapable threat of fatherhood looming over your head.

 

But you were going.

 

“I promise.” You say as you turn around to face her and take her hand in yours. When you smile at her, her features instantly soften and she nods slowly.

 

Your heart is thudding painfully in your chest as you toss a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and step inside and you are reminded of the last time you left the manor in a rush to see Daphne.

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” She says with a smile as she hands the box over and you smile back and kiss her cheek.

 

“Me too.” You murmur before you part, and then you quickly uncap the small box and grab onto the gold plated whistle because you cannot stand to waste another minute.

 

You need to see him.

 

~@~

 

New York smells just like you remember it and you have to laugh, because you haven’t really been gone all that long. You had specifically asked for the portkey to not drop you at the flat because you wanted to surprise him, and later you will be more than a little thankful for this insight.

 

You’re striding down the sidewalk like you’ve lived here all your life and your heart is racing because it feels like _too_ long since you’ve seen him and you desperately crave his touch.

 

The flat is empty, which isn’t totally unusual. The two of you spent little time here during the day since moving from the Plaza. It didn’t look much different from when you had left; with the exception of more clothing strewn about on the floor, which made you smile. The bed was unmade and the lamp on the bedside table was left on, both old familiar signs that made your heart hurt because you really wanted to see him. You crossed the room to switch off the lamp out of habit and you did not miss the foil condom wrapper peeking out from beneath the upset pillow.

 

You tell yourself that it doesn’t matter. You were not his first and you hardly expect to be his last. Besides, you know that he loves you. You’ve seen that love mirrored back in your eyes for years.

 

It doesn’t matter.

 

When you let yourself out of the flat your eyes move over the room a final time and your brows crease together because maybe you had miscalculated his faith in you and you didn’t want to think about that.

  
When you find him in central park he is not alone, and you are torn between wanting to make yourself known and simply running away. You watch them together because you cannot resist it and because you’ve never seen this side of him before. When she holds a grape up for him to eat he nips at her fingers playfully and when she shrieks and swats at him you want to die because he looks so damn happy.  They laugh and wrestle on the blanket and when they kiss you don’t miss the way his eyes shutter like butterfly wings.

 

You are hardly surprised by what you see; a part of you knew it the moment Daphne told you Pansy was in New York. You would not put it past her to come all the way across the world just to spite you, although you cannot say what you wouldn’t put past Theodore anymore.

 

It isn’t like he promised you anything. On the contrary, you had told him to live his life how he needed to live it for as long as he wanted. You would never begrudge his happiness, but it certainly did not make it hurt any less. 

  
When you turn away from them you feel vaguely sick and you don’t even bother to duck into an unpopulated area before taking the portkey in your pocket back in hand.

 

What you will never know is that at the precise moment you disappeared a particular blue gaze was pulled to the exact spot where you stood; by sheer will or otherwise. He furrowed his brow and blinked because he knew that he couldn’t have possibly seen what he thought he had. When Pansy redirects his attention he pushes the thoughts away and later, back at his flat, he will wonder why the bedside lamp is switched off when you haven’t been there to do it in months.

 

~@~

 

“No sense in returning when they’re not expecting me until Sunday.” You smile at Daphne and shrug a shoulder as you try your best to appear unaffected by your very recent and very brief trip to New York.

 

She wants to ask you all about it but she knows better. The look on your face says it all and you will never know that she makes a mental note right there, to get Pansy back for being such a vindictive bitch.

 

Of course it isn’t all Pansy’s fault, but it is much easier to lay the blame on her shoulders, so you do; you both do.

 

“Of course. We’ll have a full spa weekend.” Daphne smirks at you and hooks her arm through yours as you stroll outside to the edge of her pool. She is worried about you, although she would never say so. She knows how much effort it must be taking you to appear like you are fine. She’s seen you at your best and also your worst, and she can’t help but feel somewhat protective over your wellbeing.

 

If that meant she had to smite Theodore as well as Pansy, then so be it.

 

“Thanks Daph,” You reply quietly, a faint smile twisting your lips. 

 

Blaise turns up the next evening with Graham Montague in tow and the four of you get so fucking drunk that you should not be able to remember your own name. The entire weekend your thoughts and dreams are plagued with visions of Pansy and Theodore kissing, which you tell no one about, and when you return home your mother looks more than a little relieved.

 

~@~

 

“I feel like a fucking whale!” Astoria’s shrieking has reached new levels and you can’t help but twitch because you are pretty sure you are in hell.

 

“You look perfectly fine.” You say as you give her the once over and then you smile sweetly at her so she doesn’t yell at you more.

 

You drink your coffee and hide behind the morning edition of the prophet, desperate for a shred of time that didn’t involve talking about or complaining about child rearing.  Between Astoria and your mother, you are pretty sure this pregnancy is going to kill you and you can’t wait for it to be over.

 

Sadly, you much prefer the drunken version of your wife more than the sober pregnant one.

 

The space of time remaining that separates you from fatherhood is quickly dwindling away and in just a few short weeks it will all be over. It’s been nearly nine months since your brief trip to New York, and although you will never forget the things that you saw, you no longer dwell on the visions like you once did.

 

You’ve exchanged countless owls with Theodore since then and even a fire call or two, and you hate the distance that this separation has brought between you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with that man that you were so desperately in love with; who spent years at your side in an adventure that you never thought would end. You have no idea if Pansy is still there with him; you don’t ask and he doesn’t offer up the information.

 

The impending birth of your son is a terrifying and humbling experience and you are torn between longing for the life you had come to know, and the life that you had to build yet.

 

You wanted Theodore to be here with you; to help you build it, and every day that passes scares you because you know that he cannot wait forever.

 

 

~@~

 

The day Scorpius is born is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. When you roll up the cuffs of your shirtsleeves and stand at her side you are hardly prepared for the changes that are about to take place in your life. Astoria has a death-like grip on your hand and curses you the entire time, which feels oddly normal, considering your unconventional relationship.

 

When it’s all said and done you are exhausted even though you’ve done very little and when you finally make it back to your chambers you heave a sigh of relief and rake fingers through your hair.

 

You step out onto the balcony and stare down at the lake, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You are a jumbled tangle of thoughts and emotions and the one person you want to share it all with, is not here. You reach into your pocket for a cigarette; you hadn’t meant to take up the habit. You’d told yourself that it was only a temporary pacifier in the early stages of your separation, but here you are, a year later and still partaking.

 

You feel marginally better the moment your lungs fill with the toxic smoke and your eyes slide closed as you attempt to decompress.

 

“Nasty habit you’ve got there.” You would know his voice anywhere and you nearly choke on smoke as your eyes snap open and you whirl around.

 

Theodore was leaning against the wall in the shadows, watching you.  And even though you were only partially certain it was really him and not a figment of your imagination, the smile on his face broke you so totally that you didn’t care.

 

“I learn from the best.” You reply quietly as your mouth curves into a smirk.

 

You stand there regarding one another for a long moment; your gaze rakes over every inch of him because he is so sorely missed and he arches a brow and pushes himself away from the wall.

 

“I am a horrible teacher, didn’t anyone ever tell you that?” He takes a step towards you and you lose it because you cannot stand it a second longer.

 

It’s two strides and you are there, folding him up in an embrace that is so tight and so all-encompassing that you feel whole again.

 

There are so many things you want to say to him, so many ways you want to show him how happy you are that he is here with you now, when you truly need him most.

 

But somehow, you think he already knows.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Return](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605058) by [unkissed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed)




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